Slip
by eightymilligrams
Summary: Lindsay/Cindy fic. First chapter can be taken as a cute one-shot fluffball but further chapters might get a little more intense. T to be safe. complete; epilogue up!
1. Slip

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, or the characters. I'm just borrowing them for my own amusement. (A girl can dream, can't she?) I might continue if i suddenly feel inspired to do so or anyone really wants me to. For now, it's a oneshot, mainly because i just shot this out of my head after a day of WMC fanfiction/fanvids. Good day, overall.

* * *

"Someday, Cindy, I am going to lock you inside my house. It's for your own safety, and my mental health."

Cindy winced as the inspector pulled the bandage tighter around her arm. It really wasn't as bad as it looked. She was just looking around their main suspect's home for anything that could have been originally overlooked, and happened to run into someone with a knife. That someone turned out to be their very guilty suspect.

Cindy had managed to keep the man occupied with her words nearly until Lindsay arrived to check a hunch. 'Nearly' was the reason there were bandages involved.

"Sounds good to me."

Lindsay gave her a look that let Cindy know those four words had somehow escaped through her mouth. She wasn't sure what to do now, really, so Cindy merely left her own mouth hanging slightly ajar and tried desperately to seem as if she wasn't sure why she'd really said it.

But Cindy did know. Cindy knew very well why she would want to be locked in Lindsay's house. Preferably with Lindsay in it.

Lindsay's eyes stayed locked on hers as if waiting for an explanation, but eventually gave up, shaking her head and dismissing the thoughts running through her mind to return to the task at hand.

"You know you're lucky I didn't stop for coffee on my way here. If I had who knows where you would be right now."

"Well that's good to know. How about as a 'hey, thanks for saving my life again' I buy you coffee?"

Lindsay shot her a look that was meant to deter but instead sent a rather pleasing shiver up her spine.

"Now? It's almost 9. I'll be up all night."

"You would be anyway and you know it."

"I take your point. Fine then, but only because you really do owe me."


	2. Trivial

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, or the characters. Continuing because a few people wanted me to and my brain decided there was more to the story. This one is a bit longer but still not very long. I really can't say chapter length will be very consistant. If anyone has suggestions please go ahead and let me know!

* * *

Coffee.

It was one of few things the two of them outwardly in common. Cindy was a short, red-headed reporter who could talk her way out of almost any situation, and lacked the ability to pay attention to the rules. Lindsay was a tall, dark-haired, hardened inspector with instincts that could crack any case or any person she chose to interrogate.

But they both really liked coffee.

By the time they got to the diner, it was raining and almost ten. Lindsay had wanted to go back to headquarters and finish the paperwork first, but Cindy reminded her exactly what the point of coffee was.

Besides, who said it couldn't wait until morning if they never made it back?

Cindy consciously decided to keep that thought inside her mind. She really didn't want another wound to nurse, whether it ended up internal or external.

But maybe Lindsay would help her take care of it.

She berated herself again for even thinking it. This was starting to become a bit of an issue.

When she looked back up Lindsay was looking at her strangely. Again. Shit.

"Did I say something weird by accident again?" Cindy asked warily.

Lindsay chuckled at her friend's obvious discomfort. "No, but you did miss the waitress while you were off in your happy place. I ordered you your usual."

Momentary relief, only to be followed by dread as Lindsay gave her what the club had always called laser vision. Lindsay wanted to know what Cindy had been thinking about.

Shit.

Cindy became suddenly very interested in the patterns on the table they sat at, practically squirming under Lindsay's eyes. Her mind became focused only on one thing. 'Don't tell. Don't tell. Cindy, if you tell her you will regret it. Just wait until she gives up. She has to some time. Don't tell. Don't tell.'

This plan was working pretty well until Cindy chanced a glance back into Lindsay's laser vision. With that Cindy didn't have to say a word; her eyes betrayed her.

Lindsay read the message easily, she'd had enough practice with Cindy to know exactly what that look meant.

Cindy may have panicked a little bit.

She quickly pulled out her wallet and put down a ten, then stood up to leave while very quickly trying to make up some sort of excuse as to why she had to leave.

"I… have to go home and um, finish the story for this case. I'll never finish it by tomorrow if I don't go now, I just realized."

"Cindy."

"What?" Cindy was feeling very flustered at the moment. 'I wish she would just let me leave. This is humiliating' she thought.

"Stay."

"I really can't. I'm just going to go home. Don't worry about it. Have your coffee." Freedom! Cindy moved towards the door as fast as her legs could bring her without looking like she was trying to get away as fast as possible… even if she was.

"I drove you here."

Damn.

"I'll walk."

"It's raining.

"I'll run!"

"In those heels? And don't even try to tell me you'll go barefoot."

"I'll take a cab."

"At this hour? Cindy just let me give you a ride if you won't stay."

Cindy's mind raced as Lindsay got up and let the waitress know they didn't need their coffee and to keep it for herself.

The waitress looked confused but put one freshly brewed mug back on the counter and sipped what would have been Cindy's, eyeing the pair with intrigue.

Lindsay took the elbow of the now petrified form of Cindy in her hand and led her to the car. Cindy got in without a word and hoped that this would be as quick and painless as possible.

Lindsay got in and started off towards Cindy's apartment. How would Claire tell her to handle this situation? Lindsay considered calling her right then, but noted that it was now sometime past ten and Claire would not be a happy mom if her kids were woken up for something as trivial as inter-club relations.

But there was another question. Was this really trivial at all?

Lindsay vowed to go to Claire for advice in the morning and hope for now that by the time they reached Cindy's apartment they both would have calmed down enough to talk before Cindy tried to run home again.

No such luck. Lindsay pulled up in front of the building and before she could even finish saying Cindy's name the young reporter had mumbled a 'thanks' and was dashing through the rain towards the cover of the building.

Damn, tomorrow it is. For now, paperwork called her. At least this would give a chance for her to think things over, too… How trivial was this, really?


	3. Advice

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, characters included.

NOTE: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! You guys are great inspiration to keep writing. Once again, let me know if you have any suggestions.  
Also, CM Reilly, thanks for letting me know about the ten/10 thing. I knew that looked strange but I wasn't quite sure why. It looks much better now!

* * *

Cindy decided as she closed the door to her small (her landlord had once described it as 'cozy') apartment that she probably could have handled that better.

Who knew what was going through Lindsay's mind now that she had literally just run away from her? This just made the whole situation worse. Not only did she have a crush on her most-probably straight friend, but now she was also afraid of talking to said friend.

"I am such a dork!" Cindy half-yelled into the very empty room. She belatedly hoped her neighbors weren't around; the walls here were pretty thin. Cindy knew this mostly because the bedroom of the apartment next to hers was adjacent to her bedroom. A few months back Cindy couldn't sleep with all the noise and had to move to the couch. She had an ache in her neck for almost a week.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Claire knew something was wrong the second Lindsay was in her line of sight. The circles under the inspector's eyes were darker than usual, and there was a certain air of worry in the way she held herself.

"Late night?"

"Always."

"But later than usual. You usually stay up to finish the paperwork as soon as you get your man, but something tells me it wasn't just the case keeping you awake. Feel up to sharing?"

"Actually, that's why I'm here. I think I need some advice, Claire."

"Ah-huh." Claire's mother voice clicked into place. It was somewhere between patience, caring, and condescending.

"What are you supposed to do when… um" The pause hung in the air while Lindsay made up her mind. "someone likes you." Lindsay waved her free hand around aimlessly in the air for emphasis. "Really likes you. And you both know it but they think you don't like them but you think you sort of might but you're not sure."

Claire gave Lindsay a look. Lindsay nervously took a sip of her coffee.

"Cindy?"

Jill would have paid to see Lindsay's expression; Claire was just glad Lindsay had already swallowed.

"Oh come on. You two have been flirting since the girl joined the club, whether you noticed it or not."

"There is no club!"

"Sure there isn't. Go find her, bring her something she'll appreciate, tell her how you feel."

"But I'm not even sure yet!"

"I am. Go before she preemptively breaks her own heart." Lindsay looked towards the floor before nodding and turning towards the door. "Oh, and Lindsay?" She looked back towards Claire, obviously already deep in thought; the same way she looked when she was about to crack a tough case. "If she comes in here needing a shoulder to cry on, you're paying the dry cleaning bill." She winked and Lindsay smirked.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks Claire."

Claire turned back to the file she had been looking over. Jill was going to literally jump with joy when she heard.


	4. Elevator

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, characters included.

* * *

Lindsay stepped up to the coffee cart and smiled at the friendly man on the other side, ordering her and Cindy's regulars. Lindsay was going to head over to the register to talk to Cindy, keeping in mind Claire's advice to bring a peace offering of sorts.

"Wait, aren't those the regulars of you and the redhead from your group?"

Lindsay looked up at him from her wallet. Man he was good. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Oh, just that she came by and got the same just a minute ago, then headed inside. I figured she would've brought you yours already."

He was really good.

"Huh. I must have missed her. Thanks."

Lindsay realized that she was once again cancelling a coffee order. She yelled a quick apology back towards the cart, as her feet had already taken her halfway to the doors. The decision to take the stairs was fairly easy. Lindsay could definitely be faster than the elevator at the moment. As she reached her desk, she noticed something slightly out of place. There was a steaming disposable coffee cup sitting on the corner of it.

So where was Cindy?

Her question was answered moments later as she saw thick red hair round the corner that led to the elevators.

"Oh come _on_." Lindsay muttered under her breath. She grabbed her coffee and headed to the elevators only slightly exasperated at the childishness.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"You couldn't hold the doors for me?"

Cindy gulped and tried to steady herself before she spoke. "I didn't see you, Linds. Just came by to drop off the coffee I owed you. Have to get back to the register soon though."

"You already bought me coffee yesterday."

"You didn't get to drink it."

The doors closed and they were alone in the elevator. Damn.

"It's the thought that counts."

"That's what polite people say when they get a gift they hate."

"I don't hate coffee."

"Well yeah, but technically the gift would be the not being able to drink your coffee." When Lindsay didn't start talking right away Cindy's mouth took it as a cue to keep going. "And if you don't hate coffee then the idea would be that you like coffee and so not getting to drink coffee would be a bad thing and that would make the gift a ba—"

"Cindy!"

Cindy put her hand over her mouth to stop it from trying to form more sentences.

"Ok. Fine. You made up for it. We need to talk."

Cindy dropped her hand and looked down in acceptance. "Do we have to do it now?"

Lindsay really wanted to get it over with, but Cindy just looked so cute and downtrodden she gave in.

"No. Soon though."

The doors opened and Lindsay followed Cindy onto the main floor of the building and headed for the exit.

"When?" Cindy's composure had returned to a fake normalcy.

Lindsay thought for a moment. "Your apartment at seven, and I can bring Chinese. That ok for you?"

"Yeah. Ok." Cindy had already given in to her grisly fate. At least she would be on home territory; there should be some form of comfort in that, right?


	5. Nervous

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, characters included.

NOTE: Sorry it's been awhile! I guess I got kind of caught up with school stuff. I have a few days before my exams so I figured I should finally get on this next chapter. Yes it's short, but I wanted to get you guys something because it's been so incredibly long and I feel like the next bit needs it's own chapter.

* * *

To say she was nervous was an understatement.

Nervous is what happens to people on a blind date or being interviewed for their first job.

Cindy was waiting in her apartment hoping to make it to tomorrow with her heart still inside her chest, let alone whole.

Not as easy as it would seem by the way her heart was acting. When the buzzer sounded to tell her someone was waiting to be let into the building, the muscle just about exploded.

"Oh god."

The idea of just pretending she wasn't home flashed briefly across her mind before she remembered this _was_ Lindsay, who would find her way upstairs if there was an army tank blocking the entrance.

"Cindy it's me, hurry up or the food will get cold!"

Lindsay. Cindy pressed the button for a few seconds and returned to her general nervous haze.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Lindsay had come to a decision. She liked Cindy. Ok. What was she going to do about it? That part she hadn't gotten to yet.

She knocked and took a deep breath. Lindsay Boxer did not get nervous.

To say she was nervous was an understatement.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

She put her body on autopilot, and somehow the door opened and she heard her voice greeting a very tall Lindsay. Had she grown since this morning?

On the other hand, it was very possible Cindy had shrunk.

"So… can we talk and then eat?"

"Yeah, Ok." Cindy suddenly found herself wondering whether she would be able to be anywhere near Lindsay after this.


	6. Caramel

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, characters included.

NOTE: Final chapter?? If enough people review I might post an epilogue… and yes that is an unabashed bribe.

* * *

Cindy looked like she was about to pass out. Lindsay recalled Claire's advice and quickly noted signs of what could only be a preemptively broken heart etched onto her face. Maybe she shouldn't have let this wait. If only to break the silence, Lindsay spoke the first thing she could think of.

"Where do you want me to put the food?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It took a second for Cindy's brain to register that Lindsay had said anything. "Sorry, what?"

"Food?" She held up the bag helpfully.

"Oh, right." She put on what she hoped looked like a sincere smile. "I'll take it." Cindy lifted the bag from Lindsay's hands and moved into the kitchen, hoping Lindsay stayed put.

Setting the bag down on the counter, she took a deep breath. Was the entire night going to be this awkward?

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The smile didn't reach her eyes.

And Cindy had been in the kitchen for almost a minute. Lindsay decided this would be a good time to follow.

Cindy was facing the wall, leaned against the counter looking utterly defeated even from behind. Her shoulders slouched and she appeared to be trying to steady herself. "About that talk…"

She flinched visibly. "We don't even need to talk. You're the only one who has something to say."

"Um… well I guess but—"

Cindy spun around to face Lindsay. "Could you just get it over with?" Her voice was almost forceful.

Lindsay took a step towards her and waited until their eyes locked. "Ok. I like you."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

She should have been angry at Lindsay for bullshitting her, but the look in her eyes told Cindy that she was being completely sincere. That simply didn't make sense.

But then Lindsay was taking steps in her direction and Cindy suddenly learned something very interesting; Lindsay Boxer tasted like caramel.


	7. Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Women's Murder Club, characters included.

NOTE: Wow, that bribing thing really works. Thanks to everyone who reviewed; it really made my day!  
'The Oh So Bored One'- I guess it does look a little rushed. I was going off the whole Lindsay liking caramel in her coffee (from the actual show) with the earlier coffee reference (chapter 2). I probably could have made it clearer. Thanks for pointing it out. :)  
So here's hoping you guys like it! I think it wraps the story up nicely despite being pretty short. Yay for curious!Jill and sweet revenge. ;)

* * *

"So, how did your date go?"

Cindy chuckled. Lindsay just smirked good naturedly at her best friend before replying. "Jill, I'm actually a little proud of you for waiting until we got to Papa Joe's to ask."

"Hey! I do have some sense of professionalism."

"Could've fooled me."

Jill made a face at Claire to prove her level of maturity that made Cindy choke on a piece of lettuce. "Seriously. Tell me."

"No." Lindsay stood and smiled at the other half of the club, holding out a hand for Cindy.

Cindy smiled and took Lindsay's hand. "G'night girls."

As they walked to the exit Claire laughed at Jill's disappointed features. "I think that was your answer, honey."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

They were at the door of Cindy's apartment when she saw that her next door neighbor was unlocking his own door.

"Hey George."

"Oh, hey Cindy." He turned towards the pair and smiled wearily. For a normally perky man, he looked exhausted.

"Linds, this is my neighbor George." Lindsay waved politely then motioned that she was going inside. "You feeling ok? You're looking a little run down."

"Tired, I guess. My neck's a little sore too. Spent last night on my couch." He laughed bitterly and opened his door. "Have a good night, Cindy."

Whoops. Damned thin walls. "Goodnight George!"


End file.
